


On Licking Lampposts and the Appreciation of Flowers

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Terrible Dirty Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 02:05:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7666159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair notices that the Warden's knees are looking a little worse for wear, and he's concerned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Licking Lampposts and the Appreciation of Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Jogged into existence by [this ](http://gahooliangirl.tumblr.com/post/147870958011/alistair-to-a-female-warden-you-should-really)post that @gahooliangirl was kind enough to let me use. Written for day 3 of Zevran x Warden week over at @zevranology

“Sereda…” Alistair says slowly, squinting at her.

“Alistair….” Sereda replies, mostly confused.  

“What happened to your knees?” Alistair asks.  “Your armor ought to protect against that sort of thing.”

She can feel Zevran laughing quietly beside her, and she elbows him gently.  

“What do you mean?” Sereda asks.  

“Your knees are all scratched up!” Alistair exclaims. 

Sereda stretches her legs out to see, and, yes, sure enough, her knees are covered in scratches.  Ah, well, that explains Zevran’s laughing at least.  

“I will let you explain, my dear,” Zevran murmurs, breath so warm in her ear.  

“Remember when you asked me if I had ever licked a lamppost in winter?” Sereda asks.  

“Yeeeeees…” Alistair says, squinting at her.  “And you asked me what winter was and then said you had done a whole lot more than lamppost licking.”

“Well.  Today Zevran was looking very handsome while we were out looking for elfroot so I pushed him gently against a tree and, uh, licked his lamppost.  In whatever season this is,” Sereda says.  “There were twigs on the ground, so I guess my knees got scratched up.”

Alistair’s face turns an impressive shade of red.  “You wanted to lick his lamppost that badly?”

“Uh, yeah?  Zevran has a nice lamppost,” Sereda says with a shrug.  

“Thank you, my dear.  I’m glad you enjoy it,” Zevran says.

Sereda looks up at him slyly.  “As if you didn’t already know.”

“You do make it very obvious,” Zevran concedes.  

“I like to give appreciation where appreciation is due,” Sereda says. 

“An excellent philosophy,” Zevran says, resting his hand on her thigh.  “And one I strive to follow as well.”

Alistair clears his throat.  “Uh, guys?  Please don’t  _ appreciate  _ each other while I’m sitting right here.”

“You  _ are  _ the one who brought up my lamppost,” Zevran points out, clearly amused that they’re speaking in strange metaphors.  

“I only brought up Sereda’s knees.  I didn’t realize they would lead to your, erm, lamppost,” Alistair says.  

“I have found that many things lead to my lamppost,” Zevran says with a shrug. 

Alistair nods, face still beet red.  Sereda thinks that he’s about to get up and leave in utter embarrassment, but he surprises her by leaning forward a little.  

“And sometimes, y’know, Zevran licks your lamppost, too?” Alistair asks in a concerned voice.  

It’s touching.  Or maybe weird.  Sereda has no idea anymore.

“I don’t have a lamppost.  I have a, uh-” Sereda struggles to come up with an appropriate metaphor.  All the metaphors in Orzammar have to do with the Stone and she’s not sure if her surfacer companions will get it.  “A vagina.  But yeah, there’s plenty of licking.  Lots of reciprocation.”  

“I believe the metaphor the Fereldens generally use is a flower,” Zevran murmurs, warm breath in her ear.

Sereda squints up at him.  “Flowers?  Vaginas and flowers?”

“Both are beautiful, yes?” Zevran says.  

“True enough,” Sereda concedes.  “Vaginas and flowers are both very beautiful.”  

“Uh, good,” Alistair says, nodding.  “I’m glad that there’s, uh, whatever.  That everyone’s happy or whatever.”

“While your approval isn’t necessary, I suppose it’s a welcome change from you insinuating that I’m seducing the fair Warden to murder her,” Zevran says.  

“It is,” Sereda says, smiling at them both.  

Alistair whistles a little.  “I’m going to go away now.  Try to think about things other than lampposts, flowers, and knees.”

“Good idea,” Sereda says with a laugh.  

Alistair gets up, still whistling as he returns to his tent.  

“Licking lampposts?” Zevran asks dryly.  

“I tried to ask subtly if he’d ever had sex, and he was very purposefully obtuse about it.  It seemed an appropriate metaphor for this conversation,” Sereda says.  “I figured if I said that I dropped to my knees to suck you off, he might explode.” 

“I will never understand Fereldens and their squeamishness about sex.  It is a beautiful, wonderful thing,” Zevran says with a sigh.  “However, at least their metaphors can be very amusing.”

“I’m trying to imagine how they explain how babies are made to their kids.  When a man and a woman get married, he  _ appreciates  _ her flower with his lamppost,” Sereda says, trying not to laugh.  

“I am trying to imagine the dirty talk!” Zevran says before looking at her with an exaggerated, seductive expression.  “My dear Warden, please, let me appreciate your delicate, beautiful flower.”

Sereda cringes but laughs.  “Oh, wow, it  _ is  _ possible for you to be unattractive.  That’s good to know.”

Zevran scoots closer to her, murmuring in her ear.  “But I just want to put my lamppost in your beautiful flower, in order to appreciate you fully.”

Sereda nearly squeals as Zevran presses wet, sloppy kisses to her neck and cheek, pushing her so she’s laying on the log.  She could push him off, but this is so much fun.  “Zevran!  Zevran!  I wanna feeeeeeeeel the light of your big lamppost.”

The rough bark scratches against her back, pulling up the bottom of her shirt.  Zevran laughs against her neck, still leaving ridiculously sloppy kisses behind.  She’s going to be covered in Zevran’s saliva.  There are worse fates.

“The light of my lamppost will warm the petals of your beautiful flower,” Zevran says dramatically.

“I can hear you making fun of me!” Alistair yells. 

Sereda laughs, turning her head to look at him.  His head is peeking out of his tent and he has a very pronounced frown on his face.  It only gets deeper as he takes in the sight of Zevran on top of her, licking the side of her face.  Yeah, okay, she understands him being a little disgusted by that.  

“Sorry!” Sereda yells back.

“No, you’re not!” Alistair yells.

“But we are willing to pretend to be sorry,” Zevran says, “and we are very adorable.”

“You’re not nearly as cute as you think you are,” Alistair says.  

Zevran lays on top of her, stretched out like a lazy cat under the sun.  His cheek is pressed against Sereda’s damp one.  “We are ridiculously attractive.  This is a fact.”

Sereda rests her hands on Zevran’s waist.  “We’ll try to keep quiet when making fun of your people’s squeamishness about sex.”

“You and Zevran don’t know the meaning of quiet,” Alistair says dryly.

“The light from my lamppost is very overwhelming,” Zevran says innocently.  “It has made men and women across Thedas swoon.”

“You two are terrible,” Alistair says.  “I regret our entire friendship, Sereda.  I truly do.”

Sereda makes a kissy face at him.  “I’d be lost without you, too.”

“I would miss you as well, my Ferelden friend,” Zevran says.  

“If I could get a decent night’s sleep, maybe I would be a little more friendly,” Alistair pouts.  

“It’s great when you pretend to be cranky and unfriendly,” Sereda says.  “You’re just a big toy bronto.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Alistair grumbles.  

“Perhaps we should move the lamppost and flower talk to my tent,” Sereda says.  “For the sake of our dear friend.”

“But you are so comfortable, my dear,” Zevran says, nuzzling her cheek.

The weight on top of her is so comforting that Sereda is hard pressed to argue.  He’s slight, probably lighter than her armor, but he’s also warm and alive.  There are certainly many worse places to be than right here.  

“You are, too,” Sereda says, feeling his heart beat in his ribcage.  

“I will simply have to wait to appreciate your beautiful flower,” Zevran murmurs, giving her cheek one last good lick before settling in.  

Much to her surprise, Zevran is soon sound asleep, sprawled out on top of her.  She has to make sure that he gets more sleep.  It’s surprisingly nice just laying here with him, and she strokes his hair.  

She sees Alistair watching them with a bemused look on his face.  He comes back to sit across from her.

“You look happy,” Alistair says smugly.  

“I have an attractive man draped over me,” Sereda says.  “It’s a happy thing.”

“I mean.  You  _ like _ him.  A lot,” Alistair says.

“It is so rude to ambush me when I have a man sleeping on me,” Sereda says.  There’s no denying the truth of what he said.  She hadn’t thought that she had been quite so obvious about it, though. 

“What?  It’s super cute!  You like the deadly assassin who tried to murder us and dropped a tree on you!” Alistair says in a terrible singsong voice.

“He could hear you!” Sereda hisses.  “And I dodged the tree.” 

“Barely,” Alistair says, still with that stupid grin on his face.  “I didn’t realize that dropping trees is a way to get dwarven women to like you.”

“We don’t  _ have _ trees in Orzammar, but I’m going to drop a tree on you when I don’t have Zevran on top of me,” Sereda says.  “Now, let me enjoy this in peace.”

“I suppose you have had a tiring day of mocking Fereldens,” Alistair says.

“You make it so easy, my friend,” Sereda says.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Alistair says.  “But you’re the one with a crush on the guy who tried to kill us.  So you make it easy, too.” 

Sereda tilts her head to look down at Zevran’s sleeping face.  It’s rare that she sees him like this outside their dark tent.  His brow is relaxed, mouth hanging open just a little.  There was a time when he never seemed to relax so fully, especially not exposed like this in the middle of camp.  The change makes her feel warm and light inside.  

“He made it easy,” Sereda says, looking back up at Alistair.  

His gaze softens.  “You look really happy.”

“I am.” 

“That’s good.  I mean, unless he tries to kill us again,”  Alistair says.  

Sereda snorts, apparently jostling Zevran a little too much because he looks up at her sleepy eyes.  Another pretty sight usually reserved for her dark tent.

“Mmmph, what did I miss?” Zevran asks, shifting a little but not moving too much.  

“Alistair and I were gossiping about you,” Sereda teases.  

“Oh?” Zevran says.  “Good things?  Terrible things?  I do wonder.”

Alistair laughs.  “You’re going to have to keep wondering.”

“My lamppost-”

“Aaaand, I am out of here.  Good talk, Sereda,” Alistair interrupts before retreating back to his tent again.  

“So now, I just have to interrogate you to find out what’s been said,” Zevran says, fixing her with a no longer sleepy look.  

“Oh dear,” Sereda says.  “I am entirely at your mercy.”

“For now, I am going to keep you trapped here,” Zevran says, settling back down.  “Until you’re ready to talk.”

“A battle of wills, then?” Sereda says.

“So it seems,” Zevran says, smiling at her.  “I can be very persistent.”

“You’re not the only one,” Sereda says.  “We could be here for a while.”

“I have been in much worse spots,” Zevran says with a laugh.

There’s a stupid fluttering in her chest when he laughs like that, light and happy.  It makes her smile right back at him.  They fit together so nicely, and they lay like that for the rest of the afternoon, just… enjoying each other’s company.  


End file.
